


Stumble

by blacksilks



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Cutting, Depressive, F/M, Sad, drunk, what is this, why is this a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3719584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacksilks/pseuds/blacksilks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A late night drunk short written thing. Dark. Sad. You can insert your own character here, not defined first eprson view. Short and sad. Suicide mentioned (trigger warning)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stumble

I watched her stumble. 

Her feet were placed one in front of the other, somehow incredibly misaligned and awkward, her pace slow and stocky at best. She sighed, leaning her weight on a wall, elbow propped against the course texture before attempting her track back to her home. 

She had trouble walking, her breath, even from here, reeked of alcohol and hamburger, eyes red and squeezed nearly shut. I never liked drunkards, but she... she wasn't a drunk, not to my knowledge at least. She stumbled again, this time catching herself on a park bench, before looking up at the sky, eyes squeezed shut, pained.

She had taken this path so many times. So often had I watched her that I knew, by heart, which particular part of the way she enjoyed the most and which part of the way she'd rather skip. She always walked faster in the areas she didn't enjoy quite as much, while she often had stopped to stare at the ducks in the river or the daffodils blooming along the way.

As she passed one of these areas, a specially dense patch of daffodils, she ignored them entirely, eyes focused on the dreary sky. A lone drop hit her face and I watched her features spasm at the contact before relaxing as another drop fell. Rain. Few were the things that brought me such utter peace, but the sound of the pitter patter of the water hitting the ground relaxed me. I knew the same was the case for her. She'd take the long way home, often walking through the rain without an umbrella or even a jacket, enjoying the feeling of the drops on her skin. It connected me to her. It was the only reason she still lived... the only reason I hadn't taken her life on the bridge the first time I had seen her, face calm and serene as she stared at the sky in utter peace.

She stopped, turning her face upwards now, towards the thickening rain, hoodie falling back and off of her head. The rain fell on her and drops lined her face and I couldn't tell if she was crying or if not, her inebriated expression tense and coiled in comparison to the usually relaxed expression she wore during times such as these. 

To think of it, the only time such peace and calm had been reflected on her face was as her razor drew spirals into her skin, the blood welling from her flesh in thick rivulets mingling with the crystalline water from the faucet. She would stare at the red tainting the sheets, the paper, the sink, the bed, the floor, face calm and serene and peaceful, and I would love her for it, imagine the razor crossing someone else's skin, a jugular pictured, blood flowing over her skin, blood that was, for once not hers. I wanted to share my world with her, show her that she didn't have to cut her own skin to feel composed, to know she was in charge. 

I wanted to see her smile, one of those smiles she would give to those she loved, as few as they were, wanted to be the one to make her laugh in glee, to moan at night as she often did when she thought everyone else was asleep. I wanted to be everything to her, to teach her so many things...

She turned, suddenly, eyes open, focused. She didn't look drunk all of a sudden, she looked determined, a goal in mind. Curious I followed, eyes never leaving her form, silhouetted against the night sky and the bright orange street lamps as she stalked, unwaveringly, without a stumble in her step, towards the street, the highway lumbering just beyond.

And I couldn't stop her!

Couldn't pull her back as she threw herself off of the sidewalk, into the oncoming traffic, couldn't stop the tires screeching, the thump of her body hitting the truck, the blood that prayed over the windshield, the thought that maybe I could have... have avoided this.

She got what she wanted in the end, her blood on the pavement a work of art, scarlet swirls of blood mixing with the crystal clear drops of rain.

I watched her stumble.

And I watched her fall.

**Author's Note:**

> LI am drunk and a little depressed.... have this.
> 
> Written in the view of a CP character, unsure which one... insert your own, I'm too drunk to say which one it is, so yeah
> 
> Love
> 
> Drunk Silks


End file.
